


Let me out

by SumOfAllThings



Category: Gambit (Comic), Iron Man (Comics), Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics), Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Alternian Invasion, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Prison, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumOfAllThings/pseuds/SumOfAllThings
Summary: “Swamp rats hurt himself,” Creed remarked, sitting forward as he watched the kid smear his blood all over a wall before collapsing to his knees. Even hurt and breaking the Cajun's movement were sensual as fuck.A short pause. “We’ll put him in with general population tomorrow. For now, keep monitoring him and inform me immediately if he tries something stupid.”





	1. Box

**Author's Note:**

> I looooooovvvvveeee Remy
> 
> If you enjoy this little starter chapter let me know and I'll carry on )

Remy wasn’t used to feeling trapped. He’d spent most of his youth roaming the streets of New Orleans, stealing and foraging what he could. He’d been free then, small and ambiguous enough that no one spared him a second glance. It was peaceful, in a harrowing sort of way. He could do and go whatever he wanted. Sure, he’d come close to starving a few times, and there were occasions when people tried to kill him, but he always managed to survive. If there was one thing Remy was good at, it was staying alive.

Later, when he was taken in by the thieves guild, he was taught about manners and given a place to call home, but the wildness never really left him. He could be compelling, charming even, but anyone who grew to know him realised there was something _off_ about Remy Lebeau. It made people both wary and drawn to him. Whatever feelings they possessed ultimately ran to anger. It taught Remy a valuable lesson, he was a survivor alright, but he was also very good at pissing people off.

He always suspected his time within the thieve guild wouldn’t last and, to his eternal dismay, he was painfully right. After they excommunication him Remi spent the next five years travelling the world, trying to forget what had happened to him, what he had _done_. He plied his skills as a thief and card player, always moving, never settling. That was Remy. A traveller by heart.

Until the day the feral found him.

Remy had come across their kind before, and even among other mutants the feral's always made him uneasy. They seemed drawn to him in a way he venomously tried to discourage. He usually avoided other mutants as a rule, recognising trouble and wanting no part in it. It was becoming harder though. Every day the news played clips of the increasingly volatile warring mutant fractions. The non-mutants, in response, were becoming dangerous. Remy intended to remain impartial but the people he came across were becoming progressively more aggressive, especially when they discovered he was alone and unaffiliated.

It made it difficult for Remy, who needed to be around people. He was drawn to company, no matter the potential danger, but with his eyes it was becoming harder to fit in among the humans.

So he went to a mutant bar. He should have known better. He should have prepared, but the truth was he never expected them to track him down. He was a no one. There wasn’t any reason for them to come after him. There was no reason for the to send that monster to bring him in.

He shuddered, pushing the memory of that night to the furthest recesses of his mind. For a few moments he breathed deeply, in and out. _In and out_. When he opened his eyes he stared listlessly at the small metal box they’d imprisoned him in. It had been two weeks. Two weeks of silence and boredom and terror. There was a mass of blankets, a toilet and literally nothing else. If he stretched his arms out wide his fingertips brushed against metal.

It was too much. He couldn’t bare it.

He felt something snap.

“Let me out,” he screamed, banging his fists against the wall with all of his strength. Where were the windows, the door? Food appeared whilst he slept.There had to be a way out. There had to be. “Let me out, bon dieu. Let me out”

What did they want? God, did they intend to keep him imprisoned for the rest of his life? Did they mean to send him mad.

“Open da damn door,” he screamed, his hands leaving bloody prints on the cold, impervious metal. “laissez-moi partir.” Nothing. It wouldn’t give. He couldn’t escape.

Unless.

He pressed his hand flat against the metal, charging the cage with kinetic energy that would blow the damn thing to hell.

 _And me with it,_ he thought a little hysterically. He let it build until the walls started to shine with power before, with a sob, he drew it back. It hurt him to absorb the power and he fell to his knees with a pained cry, pressing his face into his hands as he tried to escape what was happening. “Let me out. S'il vous plaît. Bon dieu. _Let me out.”_

************

“Swamp rats hurt himself,” Creed remarked, sitting forward as he watched the kid smear his blood all over a wall before collapsing to his knees. Even hurt and breaking the cajun’s movement were sensual as fuck.

“Badly?” came the monotone response from the communicator.

“Hard to say. Thought he was going to blow himself up a while back, but then he didn’t. Looks like he’s currently having a panic attack,” he remarked, mildly interested as he watched the boy struggle to suck in air. “Pretty sure he’s a night away from from braining himself.”

A short pause. “We’ll put him in with general population tomorrow. For now, keep monitoring him and inform me immediately if he tries to do anything drastic to himself.”

“You got it boss,” Creed growled, turning off the communicator and leaning into the screen. “Come on now sweetheart, calm down and breathe. You and I have a date tomorrow.”


	2. Nowhere

The man's unusual red on black eyes were assessing as he was led into the main prison. He was tall but willowy, with russet coloured hair and milky white skin. Beautiful, Logan immediately thought. The kid was drop dead fucking gorgeous.

The others were silent for now, watching the procession with obvious interest but unwilling to incite the enforcers. The stillness wouldn’t last for long. The kid was limping, an immediate weakness that was being categorised by every pair of eyes in the prison.

Logan watched with growing interest as he was led up to the main gangway and dragged up several flights of stairs. He couldn’t help but wonder where were they putting him? He drifted closer, intrigued and felt his stomach churn. Jesus, they were rooming him with Rossovich. Poor bastard didn’t stand a chance.

“Fucking waste,” he heard someone mutter behind him.

It didn’t mean the end, exactly. Usually, no one stayed in the rooms they were assigned to. The kid could move out, if he could find rooming elsewhere. Providing Rossovich let him of course, which clearly wasn't going to happen.

The newbie has his back to Logan, but he could see the way he tensed up when he saw the russian. Instead of shying away like Logan expected the other man seemed to stand a little taller, clearly trying not to look intimidated. Logan might have respected him, if he didn’t think the kid was making life a lot harder for himself.

The enforcers let him go with a little shove and trailed away. No one moved until they were out of eyesight and then, predictably, Rossovich made his move. He walked into the younger man’s space and caught a lock of his russet hair. He smiled wistfully.

“Pretty.”

“You hear Gambit give permission to touch, homme?” The kid snapped, his voice like goddamn fucking whisky and spice. A Cajun, Logan realised. The kid attempted to pull free, his back straightening with tension when he realised he was held fast. “Let go,” he demanded, not panicking. Not yet.

Rossovich’s tentacles twitched, slithering out behind him before coiling around the kid without actually touching him. Trapping him.

“You still got your powers?” he asked, his tone finally betraying his panic.

“Some of us do,” Rossovich answered, using the hold on his hair to pull the smaller man flush against his chest. “More or less.”

Logan thought it was a fair assumption that no one expected the cajun to react as he did. The fucker was quick, Logan had to give him that. He grabbed Rossovich wrist and twisted. When the Russian let him go the kid immediately pushed his back flat against the wall and jack rabbeted his feet into the bigger man's chest. Rossovich staggered back, clearly surprised. He lashed out with the tentacles but the Cajun moved nimbly out of their path. He escaped the cell and launched himself over the balcony. Logan peered over the top, expecting to see a flattened Cajun on the other ground below, but the kid managed to snag the second floor railing and, even as Logan watched, pull himself over the ledge.

Rossovich turned to the door and met Logan’s amused gaze. “Slippery little fucker, ain’t he?”

******************

Remy tried to control his ragged breathing. The last thing he needed was to stand out, especially among a prison full of captured mutants. He slowed to a normal gait and was totally unprepared when his fucked-up leg crumpled beneath him. He went down on one knee but quickly dragged himself back up, glaring at the men and women around him that were clearly taking an interest.

Damn Creed for fucking up his knee. As if he wasn’t already vulnerable enough. Damn it. Damn it.

“You’re going to need to get yourself some protection, and fast too if you don’t want to end up as Rossovich chew toy,” a voice piped up beside him.

Too close. _Way too close._

Remy flinched back and was immediately accosted by a truly atrocious stench. He looked down and found himself faced with a green skinned, goblin of a man. His mutation was obvious and quite unpleasant. Remy tried not to stare too hard.

“Get lost, homme,” he muttered.

“Seriously, he’s coming for you. The only reason someone else hasn’t pounced is because they don’t want to piss him off.”

“Remmy ‘ll be fine.”

“Your hurt,” he said, sounding smug. “And he’s got adamantium tentacles. What have you got?”

“A temper,” Remy said lazily, turning to meet the other man's acid green eyes. He noticed somewhat sickly that the man was covered in boils. “You wanna see it, keep talkin’,”

He received an unconcerned shrug in return. “A colleague of mine would like to make you an offer.”

“Not interested,” Remy said. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades and threw a look over his shoulder. He met a wall of staring faces. “Laisser.”

“What?”

“Fuck off, oui?”

The other man laughed. “Names Toad.”

Remy thought he might actually have to hurt the other man to get his point across, when he abruptly stopped walking beside him.

“Time to go, but I’ll see you around, Frenchy.”

Remy turned around and behind him, _stalking him_ , was the walking and talking octopus. He looked pissed as hell, as if he had every goddamn right. Remy stepped back warily before forcing himself to straighten up. If people thought he was a bitch he’d never get a moments peace.

He could take Rossovich.

Except he didn’t have his powers and the other man had four additional, unbreakable limbs. Running seemed the next logical conclusion, except his leg was messed up.

Shit.

_Shit._


	3. Bien

“Gambit don’t want no trouble,” he said, giving ground as the other mutant stalked unnervingly towards him. “Seriously, homme. Back off.”

“Or else you’ll do what?” Rossovich asked, his red eyes as flat and emotionless as a sharks. He stopped abruptly and slowly looked the younger man up and down. “You can barely stand without assistance. Do you suppose you’ll last very long without help?" he smirked slowly. "The people in this prison are the worst kind of scum, you realise. You will need a protector.”

“Gambit’s his own protector,” he said, using the wall to support himself as continued to move backwards. Of course his leg chose that moment to buckle. He didn’t fall but the movement didn’t go unnoticed by the other mutant. It would be seen as a weakness and Gambit could not afford to appear weak. He straightened and waited. He couldn’t fight someone like Rossovich, a giant of man who stood at least ten inches taller than Remy's own 6'1 frame. The psychopath was somehow still in possession of at least some of his powers. Remy couldn’t run away. There was nowhere to hide.

He’d already publicly defied the man once. What would he do if Remy tried to fight. He remembered how he stood up to the feral, at first. All it had brought him was more pain and humiliation. Was Rossovich like the feral? Would he get off if Remy fought back. Would it be better to just give up for now and make his move when he wasn’t hurt.

Unless the other man hurt him even more than he already was. He would definitely rape him. There was no question of that. But would he do worse. Would he kill him?

“Fucking hell, kid. Your hearts beating so fast it’s a wonder it ain’t burst out of your chest.”

Remy turned sharply to the new threat and stumbled a little when he realised how close the other man was. His leg reacted badly to the abrupt movement and finally buckled so violently that he couldn’t catch himself before he hit the ground. He released a broken off moan of pain and went stock-still when he realised he was trapped between the two of them.

The new mutant didn’t look as imposing as Rossovich, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t normally do everything in his power to avoid him, given the chance. There was something wild about the newcomer that instantly put the cajun on edge. He was short but stockily built, with heavily muscled legs, arms and a barrel chest. Coarse hair seemed to cover every inch of available skin. His face wasn’t unhandsome but there was a mean quality about him that somewhat ruined his more attractive features.

All in all, Remy didn’t want to be anywhere near either of them.

Rossovich looked pissed. “This is none of your concern, dog. Leave.”

“You kidding me? It’s not every day we get someone who looks like that just stroll in. Why do you get first dibs?”

Remy felt a violent jolt of revulsion followed by a hot wave of anger. His hands shook with the need to throw something and blow them both to small, unrecognisable chunks.

“The boy was put in my cell. He was meant for me.”

“Only if you can keep him,” the man said with a lazy sounding drawl. “You wanna arm wrestle? Winner takes all.”

Rossovich had clearly reached the end of his patience and responded by punching his tentacles out towards the smaller man, who jumped nimbly out of their reach. He threw back his own hands and metal spikes sprung free from his knuckles.

_Why the fuck did everyone but him still appear to  still have their powers?_

The newcomer roared and threw himself forward, dodging Rossovich attempts to swat him aside and getting within striking distance of the larger mutants chest.

Remy dragged himself back, ignoring the pain in his crippled knee as he tried to find shelter. The two men were going to kill one another and he was trapped between them. He looked up desperately, hoping to find help. He wasn’t surprised to see the street was empty, with only a few frightened faces peering out from behind easily destroyed shanties.

His eye caught on a steel crate, some small distance away. He made his tortuously slow way towards it and felt a small feeling of relief when he realised it was empty and hollow. He dragged himself inside, curled up and fervently hoped they killed one another.

**********************

Vaguely Logan noticed the kid trying to crawl away. He ignored him for now, aware the Cajun wasn’t going anywhere in his current condition. He turned his attention back to Rossovich and made a striking motion with his claws that tore into the other mutants tentacles. Rossovich cried out and immediately staggered back, drawing the tentacles back to himself with a angry sounding curse. His chest was heaving and if Logan still possessed his powers he was sure he would have scented the other man's fear.

They stared at one another for a long moment.

“Was I in possession of my powers you would be dead now, dog. A writhing diseased mess of pain and fear.”

“Well then ain’t it lucky for me that you ain’t got your powers. Last I checked though, those little tentacles of yours ain’t made out of adamantium. You want to go head to head with me, fine, but don’t come crying to me when I cut them things out of you.”

Rossovich continued to give him the stink eye for a few more seconds before turning neatly on his heels and stalking away. Logan watched him go, waiting until he was sure the other mutant was clear. Bastard was just the sort to stab you in the back when you least expected it.

The kid was nowhere to be seen, but he couldn’t have got far. Logan scanned the immediate area and his eyes locked onto the crate. He approached slowly and ducked down in front of the little opening. Seconds later he had to scramble back to avoid being gutted with a dirty shard of glass. The kid slashed at him again and kicked out with his good leg, knocking Logan on his ass before he could avoid the blow.

“Get da hell away,” he snarled, lashing out with the glass. “I swear homme, Gambit ‘ill stick you if you come any closer.”

Logan unsheathed his claws and struck the top of the container, careful he didn't actually catch the kids head. The Cajun gasped and looked very steadily at the blade tips. He went very still and then released the glass shard. 

“Did you kill Rossovich?” he asked, tone even and seemingly unaffected.

“Nope, just scared him off.”

The kid’s faintly glowing red on black eyes closed for a short moment before locking onto Logan. “Now what?”

“You wanna come out of there?”

“Not really,” the kid said, not moving.

“You gonna make me drag you out?”

No answer. Logan sighed tiredly and bent down to grab the kid’s ankle. He was more than a little surprised to almost come face to face with the other man. The Cajun flinched back, his breath momentarily stuttering with panic before he seemed to catch himself.

“You coming out then?”

“Yeah,” the kid muttered. “Give Gambit some room, non?”

“Sure kid,” Logan said, stepping back. He watched the other man struggle to pull himself free and then get unsteadily to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“Oui, if we go slowly.”

Logan nodded and caught the Cajun's bicep. The other man twitched but didn’t fight the hold. “Where to now?”

“Back to my cell. I’ll get you knee looked at and then maybe some food, if you’re up for it?”

“Sound’s bien,” the kid muttered, his tone thick with resentment.


	4. Rest

The kid wasn’t talking but his eyes were in constant motion, assessing danger and potential escape routes. He didn’t try to fight Logan but judging by the coil of his muscles he clearly wanted to. Good luck to him. With a fucked up knee he wasn’t going anywhere.

“How old are you?” Logan asked, only mildly curious. He just wanted to get the kid speaking. The silence was starting to bother him.

A short pause. “Trente deux.”

“Seriously?”

“Oui.”

“You don’t look it,” Logan said, trying not to be too obvious about looking at the kid. 

“Too old for your tastes, mon amie?”

The Cajun hissed and Logan realised he was holding onto his arm a little harder than strictly necessary. “No,” he muttered, still pissed. “I don’t hurt kids.”

“Maybe Gambit should have lied then. Said he was under twenty-one.”

Logan smirked despite himself. “You don’t look that young.”

“You wound dis thief, Monsieur.”

“A thief, huh?”

“One of de best.”

“Is that why you’re in here?”

“Non,” the Cajun said, curling into himself a little. “Caught de attention of de wrong man, is all. Seems Gambit has a knack for it.”

Logan felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach. The younger man clearly thought Logan was going to attack him. He was staying fairly calm, all things considered, but he obviously didn’t want Logan anywhere near him. He was sure that if he still had all his powers he’d be able to smell the kids distress. “I ain’t gonna hurt you,” he said, but the words despite however true they were sounded hollow to his own ears.

The Cajun looked down at him with an unreadable expression. “I don’t believe you.”

Logan noticed the kid had dropped the third person bullshit but decided not to comment on it. Instead he wrapped his hand around the Cajun’s narrow waist and pulled his arm over his shoulder. “Lean into me,” he ordered, taking more of the taller man’s weight.

“Gambit can walk on his own.”

“Sure you can, kid,” Logan said, taking almost all of his weight. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He noticed people were watching them as they made their way back to his cell. Or, more accurately, they were staring at the kid. The Cajun seemed aware of their scrutiny but was keeping his spine straight, trying to appear unaffected. No way he wasn’t used to being stared at. Hell, the kid had probably been fending off unwanted looks and attention since puberty, but out in the real world he would have likely had powers of some sort to defend himself. In his current state he was a walking duck. 

“So what’s you mutation?” Logan asked as half carried, half dragged the slender man up the first flight of stairs. 

The kid huffed out an unhappy breath. “You asking a lot of questions, homme.”

“Colour me curious, Gumbo. So?”

Another piercing glare, although the kid didn’t comment on the nickname. “Maybe we get out of here and you find out, non?”

Logan gwaffed softly. The kid sure had some grit. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh bub,” he said, swinging him around abruptly as they reached his cell. The Cajun gasped and stumbled a little, muttering in rapid-fire french as Logan carried him inside and dropped him on the cot.

“Make yourself at home,” Logan said, reaching under the bed and pulling out a bottle of water. “You thirsty?”

“Nice place you got here,” the kid snorted, snatching the bottle out of Logan’s hand with a heated glare. He inspected the seal for a brief moment before unscrewing the top and downing the whole bottle in a few seconds. 

Logan waited a second before grabbing a second water. He held it just out of the other man’s grasp. “Make this one last. This stuff ain’t easy to come by.”

“So what now, homme?” the Cajun asked, leaning back slightly and displaying the long column of his throat. Logan found himself staring so hard that it took him a second to register the kids words. “You gonna make Gambit suck your cock, or are you just going to drop the preliminaries and rape him instead?”

“Big word,” Logan said, moving past him to grab his own bottle. “Good to know you ain’t just a pretty face.”

A flicker of uncertainty before the other man’s lips quirked in a roguish half smile. “Gambit just full of surprises, Monsieur.”

“That your name then?”

“One of them. Good enough for you.”

Logan held out his hand. “Names Logan. Good to meet ya, Gambit”

The Cajun looked at the outstretched hand for a long moment. He blew out a soft breath and took the offered handshake. The kid had a firm grip, despite how much he clearly didn’t want Logan to touch him. 

“OK, Logan. We friends now, non?” he said, pulling back. “How bout you put Gambit out of his misery and just get on with it so he can get home sleep?”

There wasn’t a whole lot a man could say to that. Logan took a long swallow of his drink, carefully considering his next words. “I meant what I said, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt you. You wanna sleep, go ahead. There ain’t much more to do right now, except to heal up.”

Gambit’s unusual eyes were weary and assessing as he seemed to weigh up the truth of Logan’s words. He eventually settled a little on the cot, drawing up his ruined leg and curling into himself a little. He pressed his back against the wall and after a little while his breath evened out. Logan wasn’t convinced the kid really was asleep, but he was content to let him rest for the time being.

“My goodness,” a mocking, feminine voice floated through the cell, catching Logan’s attention and pulling a growl from his throat. “It really is true. The Wolverine’s caught himself a new little packmate.I hear he really is extraordinarily stunning. Of course, to have caught your attention he would have to be.”

“Fuck off,” Logan said, standing so he was partially shielding the kid from view. “You know you ain’t welcome here. Walk away whilst you still got legs.”

“So aggressive, Logan,” Mystique said, her lips twitching up into a tight smile. “Erik sends his regards, by the way.”

“Too afraid to come here himself?” Logan asked, allowing his own grin to break free.

Mystique’s striking face soured with anger. “You wouldn’t dare say such things if he still had his powers.”

“Lucky for me then,” Logan said, shrugging and stepping towards him. He allowed one claw to break through his skin and extended it out towards her.”See ya around, sweetheart.”

She threw one last look at the kid before shrugging and purposefully turning her back on Logan, trying to prove she didn’t consider him a threat. Logan watched her go before turning back to the bunk. The kid wasn’t even trying to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“Friend of yours?” he asked.

Logan drew back the claw, aware of the way the kid’s eyes locked onto the movement.

“Woman's a fucking psycho” he said, rubbing his hand over the wounds left behind before tying a dirty rag around his knuckles in an attempt to stem the blood. “You see her again, you keep away from her.”

“Looks like there dangerous people round every corner, huh homme?” the kid said, lying back down and looking a little miserable. “Too bad there ain’t anywhere to go in dis hellhole.”


	5. Watching

Remy didn’t immediately remember where he was, but years of waking up rough had taught him the importance of remaining calm and assessing his surroundings. Keeping his breathing even and resisting the urge to immediately bolt, Remy pushed through the disorientation until he remembered where he was and everything that happened. He kept breathing, pushing down the terror and dread as he considered his current situation.

He was out of the box, which was a vast improvement given he was no longer contemplating suicide. He was sure he would have blown himself to pieces rather than stay in that tomb a moment more. He suddenly recalled a friend from a lifetime ago, a woman he had not thought about in years. She had feared small spaces above everything else. He didn’t understand her fear at the time but, oh, he could sympathise with her now.

Pushing aside his panic he realised things had improved, in a way. Yes, he was injured and had been claimed by some lunatic that could unfairly still tap into some of his abilities. He hadn’t been raped though and he intended to keep things that way. So, first thing first, he needed to leave the cell.

He cautiously opened his eyes and the first thing he registered was the darkness. It wasn’t so pitch black that he couldn’t see, but it was undeniably nightfall. Lights from a few of the neighbouring rooms illuminated the area enough to cast shadows on the walls around them, lending the already unpleasant space an eerie pallor. He strained his ears but the few voices he heard were low and subdued. It seemed the prisons occupants were mostly sleeping.

Logan sat unmoving on the opposite side of the cell, his eyes closed and sound asleep. He looked smaller when he wasn’t awake, less like a lunatic prone to stabbing a man for looking at him wrong. Remy wondered why Logan would give up his bed for a stranger. It wasn’t comfortable or even clean, but the mattress was a damn sight better than the floor. Given the current power difference between them, it didn’t make sense for him to give up the bunk.

Remy didn't like it when he couldn't figure out a person's motives. It made him nervous.

He sat up slowly and cautiously moved his injured leg. A shock of agony ran up his knee, painful enough to make him flinch but not enough to cripple him. He looked around the sparse cell, ignoring the way his head was pounding as he searched for something he could use to defend himself. His eyes immediately locked onto a ragged shard of stone just outside the cell. He eyed the distance between the bars and reasoned he would be able to reach it easily enough.

He moved gingerly to his feet, swaying a little before gathering his strength and limping silently across the room. He reached through the bars and felt an uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades. Sitting back slowly he turned to look at Logan and barely resisted the urge to flinch when he met the other man's light blue eyes. Remy felt like a deer caught in the headlights. His instincts were demanding flight but something told him running would be incredibly stupid.

“You planning on using that, bub?” Logan growled, his voice laced with barely concealed violence.

Remy’s eyes were drawn to the man’s knuckles. He wasn’t foolish or desperate enough to believe one jagged rock could hold up against.six razor sharp blades. He pulled his hand back and shrugged, going for nonchalance as he slid down the bars and spread his injured leg out in front of him. “Just caught Gambit’s eye, is all. Not much else to look at in dis hole.”

“Sure, Swamprat,” Logan said, mirroring Remy’s stance as his eyes raked the length of the younger man. “You look like shit. You sleep OK?”

“Like a rock,” Remy said, smiling bitterly.

Logan seemed to consider him for a long moment before shrugging and getting to his feet. “You hungry?”

Hungry didn’t even come close to describing how hollow Remy’s stomach felt. They fed him whilst he was in the box, but it wasn’t even close to enough to sustain a man his size. Logan offered his hand and after a moment's hesitation the younger man grasped it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. He swayed a little, unable to rest his full weight on his knee. He turned to Logan and felt a pang of surprise as he really noticed the considerable difference in their height. Remy must have had nearly ten inches on him. Something told him mentioning it wouldn’t be his smartest move.

“Yeah,” he said. “Gambit could eat.”

He flinched when Logan suddenly moved. Seconds later a hand wrapped around his neck and he was shoved up against the bars. Logan crowded up against him, his considerable bulk leaving Remy hardly any wriggle room.

“Lâchez-moi,” Remy spat, swallowing against the firm hold on his throat. Not strangling him, not yet, but the threat was clear. “Let go!”

“Shut up,” Logan said, using his hold on the younger man's neck to slam his head into the bars. He didn’t do it hard enough to brain Remy but it still sent his ear ringing. “I’m gonna say this slowly, kid, so listen up. Do not fucking mess with me. You even think about turning on me and I will drag you back to Rossovich’s cell and drop you at the mans feet. You hear me?”

“And what makes you better than him, homme?”

“The fact that I ain’t hurt you. That’s what.”

“You hurting Gambit now, vieil homme,” Remy said, grabbing his wrist and attempting to pull free. Jesus fuck, how was the man so goddamn strong.

“You can handle it,” Logan said, but despite his words he let go of Remy and stepped back. “Seriously kid, don’t cross me. I don’t want that shit on my conscious.”

“You worried about little ol’ Gambit, non? Not like dis thief much of a threat right now.”

“Ain’t what you’re gonna do that worries me,” Logan grunted, reaching out and taking a firm but gentle hold of Remy’s upper arm. “We’re gonna go eat now. I’d prefer not to bring you out whilst you're injured but leaving you here ain’t an option. You stick close to me no matter what, you hear?”

Remy nodded once, figuring he’d have a better chance of ditching the caveman if they were in the open. Logan’s grip on his arm squeezed once and then he was leading Remy out side the cell. They went at a slow pace, Remy limping alongside the older man and trying not to wilt beneath the combined stares of the prisoners.

For the first time in his life, Remy was begining to wish he had the sort of face that could blend into a crowd. Jésus baise, he actually wanted to crawl back inside Logan’s cell and just hide from everything and everyone.

“Hey Wolverine,” a kid piped up, falling into step beside Remy and throwing him a cheeky smile. She was a petit little thing, with long brown hair and a heart shaped face. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen. “Who's your friend?”

“This is Gambit,” he said without pausing. “How’s things, kid?”

“Oh, you know. A little boring but not too bad. Mystique seemed pretty pissed when she came home last night. Any idea why that might be?”

“No clue,” Logan said, smirking a little. “They still treating you right?”

“No complaints. No one bothers me anymore at least,” she shrugged, her eyes locking on to Remy. “Hi Gambit. I’m Kitty.”

“Bonjour, Petit,” Remy said, aware he was frowning as he looked her over. “You a little young to be in a place like this, non?”

“Yeah, right,” she said, her cheeks blushing as she tucked a few strainds of hair behind her ear. “As if the monsters keeping us here care about something like age.”

“She ain’t the youngest,” Logan said, his eyes still fixed ahead, assessing and challenging at the same time. “We try to protect the pups before the wolves get to ‘em. Ain’t always successful though.”

“Guess that makes you a puppy,” Kitty said, grinning brightly when Logan gwaffed. “Welcome to the club, Gambit.”

“Merci, Petit,” Remy said absently, stumbling a little when Logan pulled him to an abrupt stop. He looked up and felt a chill of apprehension when he spotted Rossovich . The giant was staring unnervingly back at Remy from his seat in the centre of a large canteen. Even sat down the man was head and shoulders above anyone else in the room. His eyes flickered away from Remy and locked onto Logan.

“We come back later, oui?” Remy asked, digging his heels in when Logan’s hold on his arm tightened. “Logan,” he hissed, pulling against the older man’s hold. ““Lâchez-moi.”

“Darlin’,” the older man said, looking over his shoulder at Kitty. “You run along now, you hear.”

The kid looked like she about to argue, seemed to think better of it and scampered off. Remy felt a pang of envy as he watched her leave.

“Keep your head high and your mouth shut,” Logan growled before tugging him further info the room.


	6. Desole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh, 100 kudos! Thank youuuuu :)

Rossovich’s demon red eyes tracked the Cajun’s every move, resolutely ignoring Logan’s gaze as he stared heatedly at the boy. Logan knew it wasn’t because the Russian was afraid, but because he was trying to send a message that the kid belonged to him and he was going to get him back. Logan huffed into his water. _The bastard could try._

It was clear Gambit was aware of the Russian’s scrutiny but he was doing an impressive job of ignoring him. _And everyone else in the prison clearly lusting after him_ , he thought a little sourly. Rossovich, for his part, seemed content to simply watch the kid. For the time being at least.

“So the petit telling the truth?” Gambit asked softly, arching a shapely eyebrow at the tray of food Logan dropped down in front of him. He trailed his fingers through the congealed mush and threw Logan a dubious look.

“Bout what?” he asked, reluctantly taking his eyes off Rossovich so he could fully look at the kid, silently admiring the other mans extraordinary prettiness.

The Cajun seemed to know exactly what Logan was thinking. He smirked and sat back a little, showing off the long lines of this throat. “Bout you helping people in here? Dat really why you came after Gambit?”

“Would you believe me if I said yeah?”

“Maybe,” the kid said, dipping his finger inside the goo and licking softly. He abruptly grimaced and pushed the tray away in disgust. “ _Gah_ , dey expect us to eat dis garbage?”

“It’s all you’re gonna get, kid. You wanna keep your strength up, I recommend you eat.”

He shook his head and muttered too quietly for Logan to hear but he did pull the tray back in front of him. “So we eat with our hands like animaux?”

“They ain’t exactly inclined to give us utensils when they know we’re just gonna turn them on one another,” he shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“You been here long?” the kid asked, going for causal but it was clear the he was already considering the ways he might make a break for it.

“Long enough. The years start to blend together after a while.”

“Anybody ever escape?”

“Depends if you consider being dragged out in a bodybag escaping.”

“Gambit don’t,” he said, sitting back with a sniff. He abruptly stiffened and leaned into Logan’s side. He hesitated for a second before pressing his lips against the older mans ear. “Trouble,” he whispered softly.

Logan immediately realised his mistake. By concentrating on the Russian he’d ignored the other numerous threats in the prison. _Fucking stupid_. Of course there would be contenders. “I’m gonna have to make this up to you later, Cajun,” he muttered, unsheathing his claws. He wrapped his fingers through the kids long hair and slammed him face first against the tabletop. He heard the Cajun groan and struggle to sit back up. Before he could really start fighting Logan drove his claws into the surface next to the kids face.

“ _Mon dieu_ ,” the southerner gasped, rapid and panicked.

“Don’t fucking move,” he growled, low enough that no one else would hear. He turned to the group approaching his table, his hands still fisted in the kids hair. “You got a problem, McCoy?” he asked, a little surprised the beast was approaching. The man didn’t normally take an interest in the fresh meat, preferring to wait until they were so broken and used up that they’d turn to literally anyone for protection. If McCoy was coming to him it was because he wanted the kid for more than just a fucktoy.

“Logan,” the furred man said, inclining his head all civilized like. “I don’t think I’ve been formally introduced to your new...friend.”

“Back off,” Logan said, pressing down hard enough to make the kid gasp. “He’s mine.”

“I can see that, though he appears slightly older than your usual strays. I always do find a change in character so very Intriguing.”

“Been here longer than most,” Logan said, pulling the kid upright and dragging him flush against his side. He ignored the way the kid squirmed, clearly disorientated, angry and scared. A dangerous combination. “Maybe I fancied something for myself for once. Something pretty to keep my old bones warm at night.”

“I can certainly see the appeal,” McCoy allowed, leaning forward and reaching for Gambit’s face. “May I?” he asked, addressing Logan.

“Non, you fuckin’ may ne pas,” the kid snapped, pushing at Logan’s arm to try and pull free. When that didn’t work the Cajun grabbed the food tray and threw it in McCoy’s face. The tray hit the Beast with impressive accuracy, the contents pouring down McCoy’s face and matting in his dark fur. “Get off me, homme,” Gambit hissed, twisting like a spitting cat in an attempt to free himself.

“What you gonna do if I do let go, Swamp Rat? You’re knees all fucked up, or did you forget about that?” he stood up and knocked the kid to the floor, ignoring the other man’s grunt of pain as he turned to McCoy.

“Your friend is quite rude, Logan,” the beast said, wiping the muck off all prissy like. “If I didn’t know any better I would assume he was issuing a challenge. Of course, being under your protection I can’t imagine you would allow that.”

“Kid’s new. I’ll deal with him, later. Explain how things work.”

“Perhaps you should do it now,”a familiar voice boomed in a thick russian accent. Logan barely repressed a groan. Because _of course_ that fuck would get involved as soon as he sensed blood in the water. “We have rules for a reason after all.”

Logan picked the kid up and gave him a warning look. It appeared the Cajun had finally figured things out for himself though, having realised literally everyone in the room was looking at him. He pressed closer to Logan without prompting, his body wracked with gentle tremors that only grew worse as Rossovich’s walked towards them.

“Ain’t gonna do something ‘cause you say so. McCoy, you wanna take this further?”

The beast gripped his chin, deep in thought as he considered the Cajun. “Perhaps, if the young man apologises I might be inclined to forget this unfortunate situation.”

Logan didn’t know why the Beast was willing to cut the Cajun a break. All that mattered to him was that the kid didn’t fuck it up. “Cajun,” Logan said, grabbing his chin and forcing the younger man to look at him. “Apologise to McCoy.”

“Va te faire foutre,” the kid hissed, furious despite his very obvious fear. His gaze jumped from Rossovich to McCoy, his skin visibly paled as he tensed, clearly about to try something stupid.

Logan pushed down his own rising guilt and grabbed the Cajun round the throat. He kicked the boys legs out beneath him and bent him backwards, marvelling at the kids flexibility as he forced his weight onto the boys knees. “Listen Cajun, you either apologise to McCoy, right now, or I’ll give you back to Rossovich. You hear me, kid?” he shook the other man hard enough to rattle his brain. “I’ll give you back and I’ll walk away. And he will tear you apart. All because you’re too damned proud to apologise.”

He pulled Gambit to his feet and spun the taller man around to face the Beast. The kid was breathing hard, his whole body trembling as he looked up at the Beast through the long strands of his hair.“Je suis désolé monsieur,” he whispered, soft but still full of spitfire.

Beast smiled brightly, reaching out and running his claws through the boys hair. Logan allowed it and was thankful when the Cajun barely twitched in response. “It appears you have your hands full, Logan. Should you ever wish to --unburden yourself-- I would be quite willing to take the boy off your hands.”

“I’ll keep you in mind,” Logan growled, pulling the kid back against his side and away from the Beast’s claw. “So, apology accepted?”

“Of course,” McCoy said pleasantly, turning towards Rossovich and inclining his head. “I am somewhat intrigued what our Russian friend is going to do though.”

“If he’s gonna do something he better get to it,” Logan said as he turned back to Rossovich and showed him his claws. “How about it, Octo? You got something to say.”

The Russian sniffed and turned round, retaking his seat and going back to staring at the Cajun.


	7. Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think this may be a relatively small fandom but I do love me some Remy! New chapter upppppp 
> 
> Let me know if you're reading :P

“I get that you’re near spitting with anger, kid, but if you cross me now I’m not going to put you down hard. So just sit down, calm down and eat something.”

“Gambit vais te tuer,” the kid snarled, trembling so badly that Logan was pretty sure he was close to collapse.

Even without his higher sense of smell Logan could scent the fear coming off the kid. He manoeuvred the Cajun towards the table and forced him onto the bench. He kept one hand wrapped firmly around Gambit's neck and pulled the surviving tray in front of the him. “You’re welcome ta try, Gumbo, Eat. _Now_.”

“Gambit don’t want nothin,” the Cajun insisted, pushing the tray away with a sneer.

“I do not need this shit," Logan whispered harshly. "Eat the damn food.”

“Non!”

He could feel over a hundred pairs of eyes, watching, _waiting_. The kid was going to get them both killed. Logan leaned into him, squeezing the Cajun’s slender neck hard enough to make the younger man gasp in pain. “Last chance, darlin’. Eat the food or you’ll drown in it. Won’t be a nice way to go, either. This crap will clog your nose, your airways. It’ll the last thing you ever experience,” he waited, silently willing the kid to just fucking submit. “Eat,” he snarled.

“You cruel, vieil homme,” the kid whispered, hunching until his hair obscured most of his face. He hesitated and then, _finally_ , scooped some of the crap onto shaking fingers and pressed the digits into his mouth.

Point made, Logan let the kid go and sat back. He turned to Rossovich but the man's eyes were still locked solidly on the Cajun, clearly enjoying the show. Logan growled and felt the kids full body flinch.

“Hurry up,” Logan muttered. “The quicker you finish the quicker we can leave.”

“Désolé, Monsieur but dis stuff makin’ Gambit’s stomach turn. Get you tryin’ to make a point and all but maybe you take some pity on dis poor thief before he throw up all over himself?”

Logn grunted, grabbed the tray and finished off the remaining slop in less than a minute. The Cajun was still beside him, hunched over and looking stoically at the table. “OK, time to head back,” Logan said, grabbing the kid by his upper arm and pulling him to his feet. “You OK to walk?”

“Oui, if we go slowly.”

It was thankfully an uneventful trip back to Logan’s cell. People were watching but nobody approached them. It was a good thing. It meant they were weary of crossing him.

He helped the kid back to the bunk and then crouched down in front of him, waiting.

“What you want now, homme?” the kid asked, leaning away warily. “Gambit tired. Don’t want no trouble.”

Logan sighed inwardly and gently gripped the kids jaw, waiting for the mans enchanting red on black eyes to meet his gaze. “Jesus, kid. Don’t hafta look it me like that. I ain’t gonna do anything to ya.”

“D'accord, homme. Any’ting you say,” he gripped Logan’s wrist and tugged lightly. “We talked now, qui? Let go.”

“I will in a sec, kid. But hear me out first. Kitty wasn’t lying when she said some of us take in the pups. We ain’t got many rules in this hell hole but we make sure the kids are taken care of,” he released his hold and wasn’t surprised when the other man scooted away until his back hit the wall and he couldn’t retreat any further. “But you ain’t a child, Gambit and the bastards in this deathtrap, they expect to see certain things. Especially when a man looks the way you do. It ain’t right and it ain’t fair but that’s the way it is. And right now, you gotta do you part to make sure those assholes don’t swarm.”

“So you just doin’ it for Remmy own good, that it homme?” the kid asked, lifting his good leg and leaning his cheek against his knee. “Funny, you not the first man to say dat to dis thief. Day always doing it for your own good.”

“It ain’t like that,” Logan muttered, leaning further back, putting distance between them. He suddenly felt old, disgusting and wrong. The kid was terrified and confused and Logan wasn’t explaining things properly. He needed help. He stood up, stepping back. “Look, just stay here. You hear me? Stay in the cell.”

“Qui, Monsieur. Remmy be here when you get back.”

It was a risk leaving the man alone. If he tried to hightail it it wouldn’t take long before someone decided to jump the kid. In his current condition he wasn’t going to be able to defend himself. Logan could only hope the Cajun would stay put and no one would be suicidal enough to enter Logan’s room without an invitation.

It wasn’t often he entered Brotherhood territory. He and Magnetor had a -- _rocky_ \-- truce in place. Down in the pits, among the worst of the worst, it was easier to push aside their history and concentrate on the present.  For the timebeing Logan was willing to play nice.

Besides, they had one thing in common and that was protecting the pups.

The door to Brotherhood territory was guarded by the blob. Losing his powers had done nothing to distract from the mutants frankly massive bulk. He wasn’t indistructable anymore though and it was clear Logan made him nervous.

“What you want, runt?” he barked, folding arms twice the size of Logan’s thighs across his equally ample gut.

“Here to see Jubes. She around?”

Blob considered him with his piggy little eyes before stupidly turning his back on the feral. “Jubilee,” he bellowed. “Runts come to see ya.”

The two men stood facing one another for a few minutes. Logan couldn’t help fucking with the other man and unsheathed the claws in his right hand, gritting his teeth in a mean smile as the huge mutant took a few steps back.

“Wolvie, what’s up? Feels like it’s been forever,” Jubes cried, wrapping her arms around Logan with hardly any concern for the claws. She stepped back and looked him up and down, her bright brown eyes full of energy and genuine happiness. She was exactly what he needed.

“Need you to do me a favour, kid. You up to meet a new friend of mine?”

“Sure,” she said, unconcerned as she turned back to the blob. “I’m going out with Logan, Dukes. Catch ya later.”

The other man grunted in response.

“I don’t know why you dislike him so much,” the teenager said happily, her hand in Logan’s. “You two basically have the same vocabulary,”

“Funny, kid.”

“So is this new friend of yours the same guy Kitty has been gushing about all morning?”

“One and the same. His names Gambit.”

“Kitty said he was _gorgeous_.”

“You too young to care about kinda thing, darlin’.”

“Jubilee snorted. “Yeah, OK, pops. So, what’s the problem?”

“Nothin’, kid just needs a friend and considering you’re the friendliest person I know I figured you could help him settle in.”

The girl poked him in the arm. “So in other words you’ve already managed to scare the crap out of him by being a huge grouch and now you need me to run interference.”

“Kid’s attracting a lot of attention. It’s making things harder than usual. I was -- _rough_ \-- with him earlier. I need him to realise I’m just trying to look out for him. He don’t know how things work around here yet.”

“So why don’t you just move him into the Brotherhood? They’ve got the numbers. They'll protect him.”

“They ain’t gonna take him, Jubes. He’s too old to be a pup.”

“How old is too old?” the kid asked in surprise.

“A lot older than you,” Logan grumbled.

“Oh,” Jubilee said, considering. “Kitty didn’t mention -”

“Because she didn’t know. The man don’t look his age, but he clearly ain’t a child.”

“So then, why did you…”

“Cause he was gonna get hurt,” Logan grumbled, slowing down as they approached his cell. “Just be yourself, Jubes. That’s all I’m asking.”

She shrugged, patted Logan on the arm and bounded into the cell. “Hi,” she said brightly, causing the southerner to flinch and jerk back. “Oh, geez, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Jubilation Lee, but everyone calls me Jubilee. I’m a friend of Logan’s. It’s nice to meet you.”

Logan noticed the way the Cajun’s lips quirked into a faint smile as he watched the kid talk. He uncurled a little, his eyes flickering briefly to Logan before settling back on the girl. “Bonjour petit,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “Gambit would rise, but ah -” he gestured helplessly at his leg.

“Oh, that’s ok. If you maybe move over a little,” she jumped on the mattress without bothering to wait for Gambit to respond and copied his pose as she set her back against the wall. “It’s nice to meet someone new. I like you accent. Where are you from?”

“Ah, New Orleans originally, petit. What bout you?”

“Beverley Hills. You ever been?”

“Many times,” the other man said, his smile brightening. “You one of Logan’s pups?”

She grinned proudly. “I’m the original pup, thank you very much. Isn’t that right, Logan?”

“Sure is, darlin’,” the older mutant said, stickling close to the door to give them some room.

“Yeah, Logan straight up saved my life when I first got here. I even lived with him for a few months, before the Brotherhood stepped in and offered me and a few of the others some space. Don’t get me wrong, I love Logan, but the man snores something fierce. I was getting literally zero sleep.”

Gambit sniggered, his eyes trailing briefly over the feral. “You tellin’ me, petit. Spent one night here and feel like my eardrums ain’t never gonna recover.”

Logan clocked the way the kid lost the third person persona, clearly warming to the girl. Logan couldn’t help but feel a little smug as he watched the cajun slowly relax.

“So your names Gambit?”

“Qui, petit.”

“That is such a cool name. Why do people call you that?”

“Gambit got a way with cards, cher. We get outta here, I show you some time.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Jubes said, her bright expression failing for a brief second. She looked over at Logan and her joy started to simmer back to the surface. “It’s not so bad here though, once you learn the ropes. There are actually some pretty amazing people here too.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Logan swallowed a snarl and turned to sharply towards the familiar voice. Fuck, he hated that someone could sneak up on him. Even after so much time had passed, he still felt like he'd lost one of senses since his powers were stolen from him. Mystique looked her fill at Gambit as she peered through the bars, unable to enter the room whilst Logan blocked the door. “I heard you borrowed our student, Logan,” she said, turning to him with an utterly fake smile.

“That a problem?” Logan asked, genuinely surprised. The kid was practically his after all, and everyone knew it.

“Normally it wouldn’t be, but right now Jubilee is supposed to be looking after the young ones, whilst we collect our rations.”

“Oh my God,” the girl gasped, shooting of the bed and accidentally jostling Gambit’s bad knee. The cajun curled into himself a little but the girl didn’t notice in her haste. “Oh jeez, sorry guys but I’ve gotta go,” she turned back to the Cajun, who instantly wiped the look of pain from his eyes as she smiled at him. “It was really good to meet you, Gambit. I’ll come visit again soon, ok?”

“D’accord petit,” Gambit said, waving as Mystique spared the man one last piercing glance. Gambit stared back impassively before looking to Logan. “So, vieil homme, you made your point. Come on den. Let’s talk bout des rules of yours.”

“Sure thing, Gumbo,” Logan said, careful of the mans knee as he took a seat beside the kid. “And stop call me old man.”


End file.
